miya atsumu didn't believe in love at first sight until it happened to him.
he and osamu made it to school by the skin of their teeth, just before the physical education teacher closed the gate. the twins shared a look of relief before both grabbed each other by the collar.
"ya almost made us late, 'tsumu," osamu snarled, shaking atsumu's collar.
atsuma sneered, "hah?! don't pin this on me, 'samu! yer the one who wouldn't stop hoggin' breakfast!"
"that's 'cuz ya keep eatin' my share, dumbass!"
"yer share?! ma said that plate was f'me!"
before their argument could escalate, a startled shout intervened. atsumu snapped his head towards the gate, seeing you run while fixing your blazer. you were loudly begging the teacher to open the gates for you, but he just shook his head and pointed at his watch, indicating that you were far too late and have to be noted as such.
"damn, sucks to be her," osamu muttered, pushing atsumu away from him. "if ya didn't take yer fat ass outta kitchen, we'd probably be with her by now."
atsumu felt his temple throb the more he listen to his twin. he was about to retort, maybe even call osamu the fat ass twin by how much he eats and demands another serving, but his voice died in his throat as he watched you effortlessly jump over the gates by scaling the walls and gaining momentum via a kick. his eyes never left your flying figure as you landed a few feet away from him.
you squatted when your feet touched the ground, an exhilarated smile spreading on your lips as you congratulated yourself for a job well done. the teacher's mouth hung open, looking back and forth from the gate—which was around six feet tall or more. he groaned, dragging both hands down his face as he instructed you towards the faculty room. the smile on your face immediately vanished, replaced by a cute pout.
"woah," atsumu managed to breath out, heart racing as the scene of you jumping replayed in his mind again and again. he'd never seen anyone jump that high before nor anyone who managed to jump over the school gate that gracefully. his heart thumped against his chest, faint red spreading on his neck, cheeks, and ears as he watched you get scolded by the teacher.
when you noticed a pair of twins watching your scolding, you whined in embarrassment. as the teacher guided you towards tne entrance, you sent a small wave them.
atsumu choked on his spit when you waved at him. he pointed at himself, blinking rapidly, then waved back excitedly. he was unaware of the shaky smile on his lips nor the prominent blush coating his face.
"yer red as a tomato, 'tsumu," osamu cackled, silently taking photos of his twin as backmail material. "don't tell me ya fell in love with that girl!"
atsumu immediately jumped on osamu, shaking his shoulders. "the hell're ya sayin', 'samu?! yer seein' things 'cuz ya ate too much octo sausages earlier!"
"hah?! don't drag ma's octo sausages into this, 'tsumu! just admit ya finally have a crush on a girl!"
"shut yer trap!"
"both of you, go to yer classes already!" a passing teacher snapped at them.
the twins paused and made themselves presentable, nodding. they sneered each other as they finally entered their school building, changing into their indoor shoes.
as atsumu walked towards his classroom, he couldn't help but wish that you were his classmate... not that he'd admit it out loud, though.
boyfriend!atsumu can’t keep his hands to himself. they’re always on you.. or in.
c/w: 1.7k, fluff, heavily suggestive !! read at your own risk :3
this thing starts with a sock. yes, your sock. which atsumu had tucked into his practice bag like a holy relic because he claimed it ‘smelled like home,’ which was just a fancy way of saying he’s a massive weirdo who can’t function if he isn’t within breathing distance of your skin cells.
being msby’s star setter apparently didn’t come with enough ego to offset the fact that he was, at his core, a cling-wrap. he loves you so much, he was colonizing your personal space. if you were a planet, atsumu was the moon, the atmosphere, and the annoying little satellites circling you 24/7.
it wasn’t just the sock though. it was the way he’d walk into the apartment after a ten-hour day of jumping and sweating, look at you sitting on the couch, and collapse onto your lap like a felled redwood tree. he merges into your very soul. and now, he’s currently trying to achieve some sort of biological symbiosis where your skin ended and his began.
“yer heart’s beating real fast,” he mumbled, his face pressed so firmly into the crook of your neck that his voice sounded like it was coming from underwater. “is it ‘cause i’m home? did ya miss me that much? i bet ya did. i bet ya were cryin’ at the door like a lonely puppy.”
the irony was thicker than his kansai accent. atsumu was the one who had sent forty-seven line stickers of a weeping bear while he was in the locker room. he was the one currently on top of the moon with the sheer intensity of being within grabbing range.
“‘tsum, you’re literally crushing my internal organs,” you teased, though your fingers were already tangled in those bleached-blonde locks, scratching at the scalp where the sweat had dried.
he let out a sound that was half-purr, half-whimper, a pathetic little noise that had no business coming from a man who could serve a volleyball at speeds that caused sonic booms. he shifted, crawling upward until he was straddling your lap, his massive frame dwarfing the cushions. his hands—those famous, expensive setter hands—didn’t go for your waist. no, he went straight for the hem of your shirt, slipping his palms underneath to feel the heat of your lower back. his skin was always scorching, like he was perpetually running a fever of 110 percent devotion.
“can’t help it,” he whispered, nipping at your jawline with a desperation that was frankly embarrassing for his brand deals. “i spent all day dealin’ with bokuto’s screamin’ and shō’s energy. ‘m depleted. ‘m a battery at one percent, darlin’. need ta recharge.”
he started trailing kisses up your neck, each one sounding like a suction cup. he was so needy. he wanted to consume your entire essence. he was simpy in the way a victorian poet was simpy—just absolute, unadulterated brain-rot for the person he loved.
“did ya notice the missing sock?” he asked, pulling back just enough to look at you with those hooded, dark eyes.
“the one you stole from the laundry basket? atsumu, that’s theft. i’m calling the police.”
“call ‘em,” he challenged, a lopsided, arrogant grin breaking through his sad puppy facade. “tell ‘em yer boyfriend is a criminal for lovin’ ya. tell ‘em he’s got a fetish for cotton blends that touch yer ankles. see if they care.”
he leaned in, his nose brushing yours. atsumu was a tactile glutton. even when he wasn’t kissing you, he had to be touching you. a toe on your foot, a finger hooked in your belt loop, his chin resting on your shoulder. he was a human ivy plant, and you were the sturdy brick wall he was intent on overtaking.
“i’m takin’ ya to the game tomorrow,” he murmured, his hands wandering lower, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of your pajamas. “i want everyone to see ya. i want ‘em to know why i’m playin’ so good. ‘cause i gotta get home to this. to you.”
the devotion in his voice was enough to make your teeth ache. it was sweet, sticky, and utterly relentless. he pulled you closer, if that was even physically possible, and buried his face in your chest.
“yer so soft. why’re ya so soft? it’s unfair. i’m all muscle and angles and yer just... perfect.”
∞ྀི
the msby black jackals locker room smelled like deep heat, expensive cologne, and the lingering scent of victory. the game had ended twenty minutes ago, and while the rest of the team was busy shouting about post-game yakiniku, atsumu was a man on a mission.
he had spotted you in the stands—obviously, he’d spent half the warm-ups staring at your section until barnes told him to focus—and the moment the final whistle blew, his clingy meter had redlined.
you barely had time to step into the hallway before a large, sweaty hand shot out, grabbed your wrist, and hauled you into the darkened secondary locker room. the door slammed shut with a heavy thud!, and suddenly, you were pinned against a row of cold metal lockers.
but the lockers weren’t cold for long. atsumu was a radiator.
“missed ya,” he growled, and he didn’t wait for a reply.
his mouth crashed onto yours with the force of a man who had been wandering a desert for forty days. it wasn’t a gentle ‘hello’ kiss. it was a ‘i haven’t seen you in three hours and i’m losing my mind’ kiss. his tongue pushed past your lips with an impatient flick, demanding entry, demanding everything.
he tasted like gatorade and pure hunger. his hands were everywhere—one tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back to give him better access, the other wandering down, gripping your thigh and hitching it up around his waist.
“‘tsumu—” you gasped into his mouth, the sound immediately swallowed by another deep, wet slide of his tongue.
“shut up,” he breathed, his voice a low, vibrating rumble against your lips. “just let me... god, i’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout this since the second set. you in my jersey. lookin’ all cute. makin’ me want to jump the rails, carry ya off, and bend you over on the shower room.”
he broke the kiss only to attack your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin right below your ear. he wasn’t being careful, not at all. he left a mark—a dark, blossoming hickey that screamed property of miya atsumu—and he did it with a smug little hum of satisfaction.
his hand slid under your top, lifting it with his palm hot and calloused as it cupped your chest, his thumb raking over it through the lace of your bra. you let out a sharp, jagged breath as he starts squeezing, licking, and sucking through the lace, your fingers digging into the damp fabric of his jersey. the contrast was insane—the high-octane professional athlete out on the court, and this desperate, trembling mess of a man in the dark.
his touch heavy and possessive, he wanted to feel every curve, every inch of skin he’d been deprived of during the match. his kisses moved back to your mouth, sloppier now, more frantic. you could hear the wet, rhythmic sounds of the both of you making out echoing off the lockers—the slide of tongues, the hitch of your breath, the low, needy groans he kept making in the back of his throat.
he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged, hard, before soothing the sting with a slow, agonizing lick. he was acting like he wanted to climb inside your ribcage.
“ya taste so good,” he muttered, his forehead resting against yours as you both panted for air. his eyes were blown out, dark and glazed with a terrifying amount of affection. “i’m gonna go home and i’m gonna keep ya awake all night. i’m gonna kiss every single inch of ya until ya forget yer own name. ya hear me?”
you couldn’t even form a sentence. your brain was mush. atsumu took your silence as a challenge, leaning back in to suck on your pulse point, his hands firmly kneading your hips as if he were trying to mold you into a shape that fit him better.
“miya! we’re leaving! don’t tell me you’re still lookin’ for that sock!” sakusa’s muffled, disgusted voice drifted from the hallway.
atsumu stiffened, letting out a frustrated hiss. he didn’t pull away, though. instead, he pressed the tent of his shorts against you one last time, a heavy, grounding pressure that made your heart do backflips.
“i’m never lettin’ ya go,” he whispered, a promise that sounded a lot like a threat to your personal space.
he pulled back just an inch, his eyes scanning your face with a look so tender it was almost painful. he reached out, thumbing a stray drop of saliva from the corner of your mouth then putting it in his, his expression shifting from feral predator back to hopelessly devoted boyfriend in a heartbeat.
“go wait by the bus, darlin’. i’ll be out in two minutes. and if i see any guy lookin’ at that mark i just gave ya, i’m hittin’ ‘em with a jump serve.”
he gave you one last, quick peck on the nose—a jarringly wholesome contrast to the debauchery of the last five minutes—and watched you walk out with the gaze of a man who had just won the lottery and was terrified someone would steal the ticket.
atsumu was a lot of things: a champion, a twin brother, a fatty, a public figure. but mostly, he was just a guy who would happily live in your pocket if the laws of physics allowed it. and as you walked toward the bus, feeling the tingle on your lips and the weight of his mark on your neck, you knew there wasn’t a single place in the world he’d rather be than stuck to you like cosmic glue.
he was already texting you before you reached the exit.
slave: “should we try the sturdiness of every furniture again? we’re buying new furnitures with your favorite color if we stain them too much.”
n: awooga, this was kept in my drafts for my eyes only. but i reached a milestone, so there goes my selfish desires.
ps. suggestive fics are in between smut and fluff, no one can torch me for this.
it was only a matter of time before i drew them shirtless and i hate myself for doing so bc male anatomy is evil and idk why i made myself suffer like that
and actually while i’m on this topic, i am greatly confused by nipple placement on pecs
(i put a mature label on it at first bc idk shirtless damp men but i’ve been seeing more suggestive art that don’t have that label so i removed it (?) let me know if i should put it back)
Looking for the perfect kissing gloss with your boyfriend is like . . .
Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!
You’ve been kissing him for an hour on his bed, but he’s still not yet satisfied—at this point, you think, he never will be.
“Angel, try this one next…” he purrs, handing you the small sparkly tube of gloss.
The goal was to find the perfect kissing gloss, and you had a vast collection. Of course, sponsored by your disgustingly rich and hardworking boyfriend (maybe sugar daddy).
You wipe your lips with a new piece of wet wipe and apply the gloss he handed you. Plop! You puckered your lips, giggling as he looked up at you.
God, he looked so cute when you sat on top of him.
“I could die like this…” he says, awestruck.
You laugh, rolling your hips, knowing how to make it ache. “Like this?”
“You’re so cruel, angel.” He pouts.
For the nth time, you lean down and grab his face. “Then maybe you should punish me.” You whispered before crashing your lips onto his.
Seems like your boyfriend was really getting his money’s worth with these glosses!
Sakusa never spoke much about his private life while at work. The team knew he had a partner, only because he mentioned it once, and they assumed whoever it was must be similar to him.
So they were shocked when he arrived at the New Year’s party holding hands with you. Your face was adorned with a bright smile and you waved eagerly the second you faced the rest of the attendees.
“This is my fiancé,” Sakusa said, using his free hand to gesture to you as if it wasn’t obvious who he was talking about.
“Hi!” you greeted cheerily.
“If anything happened to her, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself,” he added for no apparent reason other than seeing Atsumu, Bokuto and Hinata’s jaws drop at his unusual display of affection.
You chuckled as if this was completely normal. “It’s so nice to be here, I’ve heard a lot about you!”
“Now get back to the party, thank you.” After finishing his introduction, Sakusa swiped you away so you could both wash your hands in the bathroom.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: read part one first please, this will absolutely not make any sense whatsoever if you do NOT read the first part. It’s linked up top.
★ OIKAWA TOORU I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry
You stood in front of him, every word, every thought stripped down to nothing, dying on your tongue before they had a chance to form.
His lips were moving, but the ringing in your ears was deafening. You blinked once, shock overwhelming your senses. Time seemed to drag on, only to be disturbed by a velvet box being shoved in your face.
The ring glinted between you like a taunt, like it was meant to provoke you in some way. It should have felt like a turning point, a gesture of love so big it eclipsed every fight you’d ever had. But instead, all you felt was the years of begging, the years of waiting, fighting, and the realization that this was far from what you wanted.
You stared up at him, your throat constricting, eyes void of any tears. You’d cried enough over this—enough over his lack of initiative, his lack of understanding. You’d had this conversation before—many times—and still, nothing had changed.
“Tooru…” Your voice was hoarse, flat. “None of this… none of this changes. This doesn’t fix anything that’s happened.”
Oikawa’s face crumpled in confusion, panic flickering across his eyes. “What are you talking about? Of course it does. I’m asking you to marry me, Y/n. I’m telling you I want you—only you.”
“You’ve been telling me that for years.” Your words cut through the room like glass, sharp but quiet. “And I’ve been telling you for years that I don’t feel seen, that I don’t feel like I matter next to everything else you’ve chosen.”
He flinched, the words landing heavy. “You matter more to me than anything,” he said quickly, almost desperately. “Please—you’re the only one I want to come home to. You’ve always been the only person I’ve ever needed.”
You shook your head, cutting him off, the sound brittle. “You don’t come home to me. You aren’t present with me—you don’t make an effort to spend time with me. You don’t care enough to ask me about my day or find time to take me out on a date. I’ve been with you for so long, Tooru. And I’ve realized that you know nothing about me. You tell me that I’m the only one, but you make me feel like I’m not even worth your time.”
His breath hitched. His hands trembled where he held the ring box. “I—God, I didn’t know you felt like that. I thought… I thought this would show you…”
“It doesn’t show me anything. If anything, it’s a reminder that all this time I’ve had to beg you to see me. I’ve had to beg you for the bare minimum. I think you stayed with me because I was comfortable—you got complacent.” Your voice broke now, low and raw. “This—all of this—just makes me sad. Because you think a ring can undo years of me feeling like this. I’ve felt like this for so long, and you can’t say that I’ve never told you—because I have, many times. You just don’t listen to me.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. He set the ring box down slowly on the coffee table, like it weighed a hundred pounds. “I do listen to you—I listen to everything you say to me. Everything you say matters more to me than anything,” he whispered, voice fraying at the edges. “I love you—can’t you see? Let me fix everything.”
“That’s the problem. You don’t listen to what I’m saying to understand me, to see me, to make me feel heard and validated. You listen to respond.” Your eyes burned, but you refused to let the tears fall. “You don’t try to fix you. You try to fix me. You apologize to me, you fucking beg me to forgive you, promise me that you’ll change, and then nothing. Your actions do not reflect what you say to me. It’s a cycle. It’s the same shit—the same fight—we make up, we have sex, and then nothing changes.”
He sank onto the couch, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. For once, he didn’t have a comeback—no sarcasm, no charm. Just a man realizing his own failure too late.
“Tell me what to do,” he murmured through his palms. “Please. Tell me how to make you stay.”
You stared at him, heart splintering. “I’ve been telling you for years,” you said softly. “And still—you just don’t listen.”
He looked up at you then, and you saw the boy you’d met years ago—the boy who burned so brightly he lit up every room, who thought he could outwork his flaws, who thought love could be proven like a score on a scoreboard.
You stepped back, your voice shaking. “I can’t marry you, Tooru. I can’t even keep doing this with you. I’m tired. I’m so tired.”
His face went pale, eyes wide and wet. “Are you leaving me?”
“I think a part of me already has—I probably should have left a long time ago.” The words came out cracked, like they’d been waiting inside you for a long time.
He didn’t move. He didn’t follow when you turned toward the door. You heard his breath hitch—a low, broken sound you’d never heard from him before—Oikawa Tooru, the man who was always composed, always smiling, unraveling in the quiet of his own apartment.
The ring sat between you on the coffee table, gleaming under the lamp like a cruel joke.
You walked away, leaving the silence behind you as you slammed the door to the apartment.
And for the first time since you’d known him, Oikawa didn’t chase after you—he just stood there, hollow and unmoving, watching the only thing he’d ever truly wanted slip away, realizing too late that love alone had never been enough to make you stay.
⸻
★ BOKUTO KOUTARO i think this one is the sweetest one out of all of them
The air surrounding you was still tense with the echoes of your fight.
The ring box that Koutaro had thrown at you now sat abandoned on the coffee table, the air heavy and cold with the kind of silence that made your chest ache.
You sat curled up on the far end of the couch with your knees tucked close to your chest, staring at the floor, your breath uneven from all the crying. Every time you blinked, your eyes began to well with tears, throat burning every time you swallowed. You just wanted quiet—five minutes of peace.
But Bokuto wasn’t going anywhere—couldn’t, not even when you begged him to stay with Atsumu for the night.
He stood a few feet away from you, his hair a mess, eyes rimming with irritation and hurt, and he’s still wearing the same t-shirt he’d stormed in with earlier. His chest rose and fell like he’d just come off the court, breath shaking with every inhale, hands balled into fists at his sides as if trying to find something to hold on to.
“Baby,” he said softly, voice frayed. “Please…I am begging you, just talk to me. I can’t—I can’t just go to bed after all that and I’m not fucking leaving until we fix this.”
You didn’t look up, eyes flicking towards the window. “There’s nothing that I haven’t already said. I don’t have anything else to say to you, Koutarou.”
“Yes, you do baby. You always have everything to say.” He took a step closer, cautious, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he moved too fast. “You’re still upset, I can tell. And the way you feel is completely valid—I really, really fucked up. I hurt you in a way I didn’t think I ever could.”
Your jaw clenched. “You didn’t just hurt me, Kou. You forgot me. And it seems to be a pattern—anytime something really important comes up, you’re never there. I know tonight might’ve been different but…every other time, you could’ve taken time off.”
The words hit him straight through. He sank down on the floor in front of you, sitting cross-legged, elbows on his knees, staring up at you with glassy eyes. “I know,” he said hoarsely. “I know, baby. I just—when things get busy, I lose track of everything in front of me. Sometimes I even lose sight of what’s really important to me—and believe me, I’m trying. But that’s not an excuse—if you can’t see my effort, then it’s not enough and I know what I need to do.”
“But you always say this. I know work comes first, I know you have to attend meetings, and travel—but nothing changes between us,” you whispered, tears finally spilling again. “You say you don’t mean to. You say you’ll do better. And for a while, things are better. But then the season starts, or there’s a new deal, or another dinner, and suddenly I’m back here, waiting for you to remember that I exist.”
He winced, hands trembling against his knees. “I never forgot that you existed, babygirl. I just—” His voice broke, cracking raw. “I need to find a balance between work and my relationship with you. When I’m working, when I’m focused, I don’t know how to stop—the grind mentality is the only thing I’ve known. I don’t know how to slow down and stop and appreciate what’s around me sometimes. But that doesn’t mean you’re not my whole world. You’ve kept me grounded since the day we met.”
You wiped your face with the heel of your hand. “I shouldn’t have to fight to be seen in the world of the person who loves me the most. I just want you to see that I matter, that my dreams matter too, that our future is all I think about. I want you to celebrate those moments with me.”
He crawled closer, hesitating just before he reached you. “Things are going to change. This is the last time that you deserve to feel this way.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Can I please, please just hold you?”
You didn’t answer—just stared at him through blurry eyes. But when he reached out, gentle and uncertain, you didn’t pull away. His arms came around you, careful, tentative at first, then tighter when you didn’t resist. The moment his hand found the back of your head, the dam broke. You sobbed into his chest, fists clutching his shirt, shaking from exhaustion and heartbreak.
He just held you. No words, no promises — just quiet apologies pressed into your hair.
“I hate fighting with you, it fucking kills me.” he whispered eventually, voice raw against your temple. “I hate when I make you cry.”
“I hate fighting with you, it’s not fair to either one of us,” you murmured, pulling back to look at him. “I hate that we keep doing this. Things need to change, Kou.”
He nodded, eyes wet, thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “Baby, I promise you, this is the last time. I’ll be better—I know I have to earn your trust back, I know I have to prove myself.”
Your laugh was small, tired. “You don’t have to prove anything to me tonight.”
He smiled faintly — that soft, boyish one that still made your heart ache — and shook his head. “No, I do. Just… not the way I did before.”
You frowned as he reached for the ring box on the table, picking it up carefully, like it might break if he held it wrong. He turned it over in his palm once before opening it again.
“Earlier,” he said, voice trembling, “I said ‘marry me’ because I was scared that you were going on walk out on me. That’s not what I want this to mean. I don’t want it to come from fear—you don’t deserve that. I want it to come from this. From us. From how much I love you, even when we’re a mess, even when things are hard.”
He looked at you, tears shimmering in his eyes. “Loving you is the best decision I’ve ever made. Loving you in easy. So I’m asking again, because I’m scared to lose you, but because I don’t wanna spend one more night forgetting how lucky I am to have you. I want this for the rest of my life. Will you marry me? For real this time.”
Your heart cracked open all over again. You could barely breathe, barely think—all you could do was nod, choking out a small, tearful “yeah.”
His face broke into the softest, most fragile smile you’d ever seen. He slipped the ring onto your finger with shaking hands, then leaned forward to kiss your forehead.
It wasn’t fiery or desperate. It was slow, reverent, the kind of kiss that said everything words couldn’t.
You both sank into the couch together, too drained to move, wrapped up in each other’s warmth. His hand found yours where the ring glinted faintly in the low light.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he mumbled, voice heavy with sleep.
“I know,” you whispered, tracing lazy circles over his chest. “Just…don’t forget about me again.”
“I would never,” he breathed, and this time, you almost believed him.
By the time the city outside went quiet, the two of you were already asleep—tangled in each other, the fight finally giving way to peace.
⸻
★ IWAIZUMI HAJIME this one is kindaaaa steammyyyy
You stared at him for a long moment, chest tight, hands trembling. The silence in the kitchen suffocated both of you, and the ring in his hand gleamed like it had a heartbeat of its own.
“Y/n…” His voice was barely above a whisper, raw and vulnerable, “Can you fuckin’ say something, please. I—I just don’t know what I’d do if you—if you say…” His words trailed, broken, the fear that had haunted him spilling into the open.
Your throat burned, but your lips found a small, trembling smile. “Yes,” you said softly, voice thick with emotion. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
The words hit him like sunlight breaking through a storm, the air newly knocked itself out of his lungs in disbelief. His brown eyes went wide in shock, his hands shaking so violently you thought he might drop the ring. “You…you said yes?” His voice cracked, disbelief rolling into joy. “You really—?”
“Yes,” you breathed, taking a careful step closer, letting the vulnerability of your own tears show. “How could I say no? I love you more than I’ve loved anyone. I’ve always loved you, it’s always been you. This…this doesn’t scare me. I’ve always wanted this—I’ve always wanted you.”
Hajime froze, chest rising and falling rapidly, like he needed to inhale every word you’d just said. Then slowly, like he couldn’t believe his own courage, he reached for you. His hands brushed your cheeks, gentle but insistent, thumbs stroking your skin, wiping away the tears, and his forehead rested against yours.
“I’ve been such a jackass,” he murmured against your temple, voice low and rough. “I didn’t mean to shut you out, baby. I was just scared…I hate admitting that but I was scared that you’d say no. Scared I’d fuck up the proposal.”
Tears slipped down your cheeks, and he brushed them away, his touch feather-light but grounding. “Hajime,” you whispered, “all I want is you. Just…you. You’ve always been enough for me, for everyone around you. I don’t need anything more or anything less. Just you.”
The kitchen felt smaller, warmer, every sound of your heartbeats mingling with his. His lips found yours, slow at first, tentative, like testing the waters after a storm. But when you responded, his hands tightened around you, pulling you flush against him, trembling kisses cascading over your mouth. The urgency of the fight, the fear, the relief — it all poured out in that kiss, raw and emotional.
You clung to him, feeling the trembling strength beneath his embrace, his hands roaming your back, fingers gripping your hair, grounding you, pulling you closer to him. His breaths mingled with yours, heavy and uneven, soft moans escaping as he pressed closer. Every kiss, every brush of lips and teeth and tongue, was a confession, a promise, a tether between the two of you.
“I’m so in love with you,” he murmured against your lips, voice low and shaky. “I couldn’t imagine what my life would look like without you. I never want to let you go—you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“I love you,” you whispered back, letting your tears fall freely now. “I’ve always loved you—since we first met.”
He groaned softly, heart shaking against yours, lips capturing yours again, this time slower, deeper, savoring every inch. Hands slipping beneath your shirt, touching your waist, pulling you impossibly closer until the rest of the world melted away. The fight, the anger, the fear — it all dissolved in this moment, leaving only you and him, raw and alive and utterly unafraid.
Eventually, you both sank onto the couch, limbs tangled, breathing ragged, foreheads pressed together, hearts hammering in sync. He brushed stray hairs from your face, his thumb tracing your cheek, and whispered, “We’re gonna be okay, baby. Promise I’ll fix everything. I’ll make sure you never feel like this again.”
You shivered against him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “I trust you, I always have.” you murmured, voice soft, filled with everything words couldn’t hold.
His arms tightened around you, and the kitchen faded into nothing — all that existed was the warmth, the trembling, the love that finally, finally, felt like it could breathe.
And when sleep took you, you did so tangled in each other, the ring shining softly on your finger, a quiet promise of forever, and the storm outside had nothing on the storm inside you both — because this one ended in surrender, in trust, in love.
⸻
★ MIYA ATSUMU my baby. I got carried away with this one
“Marry me. Please. I don’t care that it’s ugly like this, in the middle of a fight, with the neighbors watchin’.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, desperate. “I can’t stand ya thinkin’ I don’t want ya, that I’d ever choose anyone else other than you. You’re it for me, y/n. Always have been. I can’t do life without ya—I won’t.”
The whole street felt like it had gone still—the air, the lights, even the neighbors held their breath. Atsumu Miya, brash and arrogant and infuriatingly impossible, knelt trembling before you, his messy, ugly truth finally spilling out into the night.
And you just stared at him.
For a long moment, the world was nothing but the sound of your heartbeat and the faint hum of the streetlight above you. Atsumu didn’t move—didn’t breathe. The velvet box shook in his hands, his eyes wide and tearful, a thousand unsaid things trembling behind them.
“Baby I…I can’t…” he choked, voice cracking, trembling. “I can’t lose you, not like this. You don’t understand—I would give my fuckin’ life for you! I love you so much it fuckin’ hurts, and I can’t…I can’t imagine one second without you!”
Tears streamed down your face, a sob left your lips, and for the first time in hours—you let yourself feel every ounce of anger, every ounce of frustration, the betrayal of thinking he was being unfaithful. “Atsumu…” you whispered, voice breaking.
His chest felt tight, almost like it would cave in on itself with every ragged breath he took. “Look at me, babygirl. Please. Don’t walk away from me. Don’t do this to me I—I can’t—” His voice broke again, loud and raw, half sob, half shout.
“This isn’t…” your voice cracked, barely a whisper. “This isn’t what I wanted—‘Tsumu I-I just wanted the truth—“
He looked up at you, completely undone. “And ya think I wanted this?” he rasped, chest heaving. “I wanted this to be something special—something so much more than whatever the fuck this is. I wanted to make ya feel loved, make ya feel like the luckiest girl in the world—I didn’t wanna make ya cry, baby, not like this. But I can’t—I can’t let you walk out on me thinkin’ I’d ever cheat on ya.”
Your throat burned. “Then why did you lie to me? Why did you sneak around and act like you didn’t care? You just shut me out, Atsumu—”
“I was fuckin’ scared!” he shouted, the word tearing out of him before he could stop it. “I was scared that it wouldn’t be enough, that me proposing to you wouldn’t be enough, that you’d look at me and—fuck, that you’d say no. I was scared that I might lose the love of my life.”
His voice broke on that last word. You watched his head drop, shoulders trembling, and something in your chest gave way. The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful, it was thick, suffocating—heavy with everything you both hadn’t said.
Your chest tightened. You’d never seen him like this—so stripped of arrogance, so unfiltered, so achingly vulnerable. You took a shaky step forward, and he closed the distance in a heartbeat, arms circling your waist, pulling you into him with tears streaming down his cheeks. You clung back, holding him against you trembling with every sob, letting yourself feel everything you’d bottled up too.
And then, as if the universe couldn’t take it either, the sky cracked open. Thunder cracked, lightning struck throughout the night sky, clouds weeping alongside you both.
Heavy drops of rain began to fall, darkening the pavement around him. Within seconds, you were both soaked—hair plastered to your face, shirt clinging to your skin, exposing your bare skin to the world, the ring in his hand catching the blur of streetlight and storm. Atsumu let out a shaky, almost disbelieving laugh, tipping his head back.
“Perfect,” he muttered bitterly, wiping his eyes even though the rain made it pointless. “Now the fuckin’ sky’s cryin’, too.”
You couldn’t help it—you laughed, too. A small, broken sound that tasted like salt and rain as you sniffled.
And that’s when your chest collapsed in on itself. You looked down at him, a small smile on your lips, voice trembling as you whispered, “Sweet boy,”
He looked up at you then—devastated but eyes hopeful, still on his knees in the downpour. Rain clung to his lashes, and the moon reflected through his eyes. He was beautiful, always had been, even like this.
“I don’t care how ugly things get. I’ve always loved you more than you could ever imagine. So…yes.”
Atsumu froze. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Rain streamed down his cheeks, mingling with his tears as his head fell forward, a strangled, perplexed laugh escaping him. “Yes? Yes to what?”
“To marrying you.”
He laughed again—half-sob, half-disbelieving joy—his forehead falling against your stomach, arms wrapping around your waist as if grounding himself in the truth of you.
Rain slicked streets, lights blurred around you both—and neither of you seemed to care. And then he stood, towering over you with tears in his eyes, like his entire world has just been pieced back together. He grabbed your face, thumbs swelling softly against your cheeks as he searched your face for the truth.
“I don’t want ya to say yes just because ya feel obligated to,” he whispered, hands shaking. “Don’t say it if ya don’t mean it, baby.”
“Baby…I mean it, always will.” you choked, your voice trembling but steady enough to convince him.
For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. Just the rain between you, cold and relentless, dripping from his jaw to your lips, mingling with your tears. Then Atsumu exhaled—a shaky, broken sound—and you barely had time to breathe before his lips were on yours—sweet, desperate, a collision of a sincere apology and insatiable hunger. It wasn’t soft, it didn’t dare to be. It was everything you’d both been holding back, spilling out all at once without any reservations.
You gasped against his lips, fingers tangling in his soaked hair as he pulled you impossibly closer to him. The rain made your clothes cling to your skin, cold and slick, but his touch burned everywhere, a reminder than the fire between you still burned bright. His lips traced frantic paths down your jaw, to your throat, sucking deep purple marks into your skin that tasted of rain and salted skin.
“This…this wasn’t how I imagined this would happen,” you moaned between kisses, voice breaking, breath hitching as his hands slid beneath the hem of the shirt clinging to your body.
“I know,” he rasped, lips brushing the corner of your mouth, the edge of your chin. “I fuckin’ know, baby. But I don’t care—not right now. It’s just me and you, that’s all I care ‘bout”
He stopped himself with a shudder, forehead pressing to yours, the two of you trembling, breathing the same ragged air. For one suspended second, the world narrowed to this—the heartbeat under your palms, the taste of him on your tongue, the rain pounding around you like static.
“I don’t wanna let go, you’re all I’ve ever wanted.” you murmured, barely audible.
He smiled—small, absolutely wrecked. “Then don’t, babygirl. It’s always been me and you,”
Then, without another word, his lips were on yours again before he lifted you, pulling you close, shoulder catching you as he practically carried you to the apartment. The door slammed behind you; the world outside disappearing into the sound of rolling thunder. There’s a heartbeat of silence—just you both, rain dripping, pooling beneath your feet, absolutely breathless, staring at each other, shivering from adrenaline and cold and desire.
“You’re fuckin’ perfect, ya know that?” he muttered, fingers brushing the damp strands of hair from your face, cupping your cheeks like he’s memorizing them, needing you in every way.
“I’m far from perfect, we both are.” you tease, voice shaky, teeth chattering from wet clothes clinging to your skin.
“I’m far from perfect, but you…you’re beyond perfect, always have been, my baby. And it’s just for me.” he growled, tugging you into him again. His kisses are desperate, hungry, your arms tangled around his neck with a moan, his hands roamed every inch of your body, tugging at the shirt clinging to you, pulling it over your head to reveal the bare skin of your hips. Your lips crashed together in a chaotic rhythm, every moan, every shiver, every ragged breath is raw and real as his hands held you down, pulling you back towards him to ground you.
And you know it’s only just the beginning of a sleepless night, the world outside forgotten, and right now, this is enough. You both are enough for one another.
⸻
★ SAKUSA KIYOOMI I’m apologizing in advance
You didn’t move. The ring glinted between you like a cruel joke — a promise that showed up far too late. Your throat burned, chest rising and falling too fast as the silence between you hung.
Then you laughed—sharp, breathless, disbelieving. “You’re fucking with me,” you said, shaking your head. “You have to be.”
His brow furrowed, the faintest flicker of confusion breaking through his composure. “What? Why would I be screwing around with something like this?”
“Because this—” you snapped, gesturing to him — to the ring, to his kneeling form, to everything. “You really think this is something I can accept? You think proposing after ignoring me for weeks makes it okay? I have had to beg for your attention, Kiyoomi!”
“That’s not what I’m—”
“No, that’s exactly what you’re doing!” Your voice cracked, anger flooding through the ache in your chest. “You don’t even talk to me, you don’t see me, and now—what? You just throw a ring at me and hope it changes everything? That I won’t beg you to love me anymore, that I won’t cry because you refuse to touch me, that I won’t scream at you like this because I’m tired of not being treated right?”
His jaw tightened, the muscle twitching. “Don’t do that, don’t say that. It’s not fair, you know how—“
“Oh, don’t you dare,” you spat, eyes stinging. “Don’t you dare tell me what’s fair. I begged you to let me in, Kiyoomi. I begged. I would’ve gotten on my hands and knees if you would’ve just listened to me! You shut me out over and over, and now you decide this is the moment to ask me to marry you? After all of this?”
His voice rose, quiet but razor-sharp. “Because I’m trying! I’m trying to do the right thing, to show you that I—”
“That you what?” you cut in, shaking your head, bitter laughter bubbling up. “That you love me? You don’t even know how to show it unless it’s on your terms. Everything has to be perfect for you, doesn’t it? Every word has to be rehearsed, every move you make it controlled. You can’t even love me without making it complicated!”
His composure cracked — just slightly, just enough. “You think this is easy for me?” he said, voice low and shaking. “You think I don’t fight myself every damn day to keep our relationship together? I’m not good at this. I know I’m not. But I thought—” His throat worked, and his voice broke mid-sentence. “I thought if I could make it right, maybe you’d finally see how much I—”
“I do see it,” you said, tears spilling now, voice trembling with fury. “And that’s the problem. You only show me that you care when we fight, when you feel like I’m about to walk out on you. Ive been checked out from this relationship—at least emotionally. You just don’t show me when it matters most—and I don’t deserve that.”
The words hit him like a physical blow. His hand fell from the open box, the ring still glinting faintly between you. His eyes — wide, wet, unsteady — locked on yours. “Don’t say that I don’t show you that I love you. I show you in the only way I know how,” he whispered.
You swallowed hard, forcing the next words out because someone had to. “I can’t marry you, Kiyoomi. I refuse to beg you to treat me like I mean something to you when another man would do it in a heartbeat without question.”
He froze. No breath. No sound. The world went painfully still.
“What?” His voice was barely a whisper.
You shook your head, wiping your face. “You heard me. I cannot marry you. Not like this.“
“Love, please” His voice cracked again, rough this time, trembling with something raw. “Don’t do that. Don’t throw this away because I messed up.”
“You didn’t mess up,” you said, voice low but shaking. “You waited. You waited until I was ready to walk out the door to finally decide I was worth the risk. And now you want me to just… what? Forget how lonely this has been? I’m the only one in this relationship, Kiyoomi. Am I supposed to just forget how small you make me feel every time you shut me out?”
He took a step forward, desperate now, the mask fully gone. “I’m trying to tell you I can be better!”
“But I’m tired of waiting for that!” you cried, the sound shattering the air between you. “I’m so fucking tired of waiting for you to be ready to love me in the way I deserve—it’s been almost four years! Four years of me begging, of me trying to get you to see me!”
He flinched. His shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him like blood. The box slipped from his fingers, hitting the floor with a dull clatter.
Neither of you moved.
You stared at him — the man you’d loved, the one who’d built walls so high even his love couldn’t reach through them — and you realized this was it. The breaking point.
When he finally spoke, his voice was hollow. “So that’s it?”
You took a shaky breath, forcing the words out even though they hurt like hell. “Yeah,” you whispered. “That’s it.”
He nodded once, eyes red, chest rising and falling unevenly. For a moment, it looked like he might say something else, might reach for you — but he didn’t.
And maybe that said everything.
You stepped around him slowly, your hand brushing the wall for balance as you passed. The rain had started outside, faint at first, tapping against the window. You didn’t look back when you reached the door.
Behind you, the sound of your footsteps faded — and somewhere between one breath and the next, Sakusa’s composure finally broke.
The ring lay between you both, glinting faintly in the half-light — a symbol of everything that could’ve been, now just another piece of the wreckage.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I really luv you people bc it’s fucking 5am in Germany right now and I put my whole ass into writing this. Smh. Should I write a version of this for JJK perhaps? I think so.
note: I kinda had this headcanon that Atsumu likes seeing you cry when he is fucking you so it lead to this :)
Atsumu Miya’s thick cock was buried deep inside your pussy, stretching you impossibly wide, the sheer girth of him making your walls flutter and clench around every veiny inch.
"Fuuuck, baby," Atsumu groaned, his voice low and rough, with a smirk playing on his lips as he thrust into you with brutal force. He bottomed out again, the fat head of his dick kissing your cervix so hard it made stars explode behind your eyes. "Look at ya... already cryin' for me. Am I really that deep, huh? Poor little thing."
You were a moaning, sobbing mess underneath him. Tears streamed down your flushed cheeks, your body shaking with every punishing snap of his hips. He was so big—too big—his thick cock splitting you open, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you until you couldn't think straight. Your legs were spread wide, knees pushed up toward your chest as he folded you in half, driving into you like he was trying to ruin you for anyone else.
"A-Atsumu—ahh! It's too much—!" you cried out, your voice breaking into a whimper as another deep thrust made fresh tears spill from your eyes. Your pussy gushed around him, soaking his balls and the sheets beneath you, but he didn't slow down. If anything, the sight of your wet, teary face made him harder.
He laughed softly, sympathy dripping from his tone as he leaned down closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Aww, sweetheart, is it too deep? Is my fat cock hittin' places ya didn't even know ya had?" He exclaimed his words with a particularly vicious grind, rolling his hips so the thick base of his dick rubbed against your swollen clit. "Look at those pretty tears... yer eyes all glassy and wet. Fuck, I love it. Love seein' ya cry 'cause ya can't handle how good I'm fuckin' ya."
You sobbed louder, your hands fisting the sheets as he picked up the pace, slamming into you harder. The wet, obscene sounds of skin slapping skin filled the room, mixed with your broken moans and his filthy praises. Every thrust was so deep it felt like he was rearranging your insides, his heavy balls smacking against your ass with rhythmic force.
"Shh, shh, don't cry too much now," Atsumu cooed, his voice dripping with fake gentleness as he fucked you dumb. He reached up with one hand, his thumb gently brushing across your cheek, collecting the tears that were flowing freely. He brought it to his mouth, licking it off with a wicked grin. "Yer such a good girl, takin' all of me like this. Even when it's makin' ya sob."
He wiped more tears from your other cheek with his thumb, then pressed it between your lips, letting you taste your own wetness as he started fucking you even faster. "That's it, baby. Suck on my thumb while I wreck this tight little cunt. Yer eyes are rollin' back—fuck, yer so pretty when yer this cock-drunk."
Your moans turned into desperate, wordless cries. You were crying harder now, overwhelmed by the pleasure-pain of how thick he was, how deep he reached. Every stroke dragged along your g-spot, building an unbearable pressure inside you. Your walls fluttered and spasmed around his massive length, milking him as you teetered on the edge.
"Aww, are ya gonna cum again already?" Atsumu mocked, his voice husky with lust. He pulled his thumb from your mouth and gripped your hips instead, angling you so he could pound even deeper. "Go on then. Cry for me while ya do. I wanna see those tears pourin' down while yer pussy creams all over my dick."
You shattered with a broken wail, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. Your whole body convulsed, pussy clenching rhythmically around his thrusting cock as you soaked him. Tears poured down your face, and Atsumu watched every second of it with dark, hungry eyes, his smirk widening.
"Fuuuck yeah," he growled, not slowing down even as you came. He leaned down and licked a tear straight from your cheek, then captured your lips in a messy kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth just as his cock invaded your pussy, relentless and claiming. "Yer such a mess, baby. My perfect, sobbing little slut."
He fucked you through your orgasm, then kept going, his pace brutal and unyielding. The overstimulation made you wail louder, fresh tears spilling as he chased his own pleasure. His thumb returned to your face, tenderly wiping away the evidence of how thoroughly he was ruining you, even as his hips slammed into you without mercy.
"Look at me," he demanded softly, mock sympathy thick in his voice. "Look at me while I fuck ya stupid. Those wet lashes, those shiny cheeks... fuck, yer gonna make me cum just from seein' ya like this." His thrusts grew erratic, deeper, grinding against your cervix with every plunge. "So tight. So wet. Cry some more for me, yeah? Let me see how good my big, thick cock feels destroyin' ya."
You obeyed without thinking, moaning and sobbing his name as another climax built rapidly. Atsumu's breath hitched, his muscles tensing as he buried himself to the hilt one last time, flooding your pussy with hot, thick ropes of cum. He stayed deep inside you, grinding lazily as he rode out his high, thumb still gently stroking your tear-streaked face.
"Atta girl," he murmured, pressing soft kisses to your wet cheeks, his voice dropping into something almost tender now that he'd fucked you raw. "Took me so well. Love makin' ya cry like that..."
Atsumu's fingers traced your tear tracks almost reverently, that satisfied smirk never leaving his lips.
